


marahuyo

by sprinklednana



Series: you, always. (nomin oneshots) [18]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Twins, Arranged Marriage, Fluff and Angst, King! Jeno, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i will protect jeno with my life, prince! Jaemin, slight Jaemin/OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinklednana/pseuds/sprinklednana
Summary: On his seventh name day, his mother had told him, her gentle hands running through his hair and even gentler eyes looking down fondly at him,“Your heart would always know love, my angel. Even if they disappear into a large crowd or swim away across the oceans. Even if they hide behind the thickest and strongest of walls. Even if they disappear for years and years. Once you see them again,”The queen, renowned for her utmost kindness and her time’s most beautiful smile, presses her palm against her little boy’s chest,“this would recognize them in a heartbeat.”On his twentieth name day, Jaemin finally understands.(or how dutiful Prince Jaemin discovers love; through an arranged marriage, a cheeky knight, and an infamous king)
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Series: you, always. (nomin oneshots) [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1132373
Comments: 18
Kudos: 355





	marahuyo

**Author's Note:**

> marahuyo in tagalog means "to be enchanted"
> 
> my god look at this monster of a fic I'M FDVDFSVFSDVFSDV i'm so tired yet also so ???? proud of myself. This is the first time i've ever written more than 5k for a single fic. WHEW. 
> 
> i was commissioned by ate @aokilovenana (twt) and this was her [prompt](https://twitter.com/aokilovenana/status/1287471662862962688?s=20). thank you for your trust, ate, and happy happy birthday! ILY!!! <3
> 
> i've worked so hard on this fic so i would really really appreciate your kudos and comments :(((

**1**

“I’m getting married.” Jaemin says, the very second Jisung enters the room, Chenle in tow. 

There wasn’t any defeat in his tone, but no excitement either. The surprise hasn’t seemed to worn off even when he’s known about his own marriage for a total of seventeen hours now.

“Of course you are,” Chenle replies back, just as fast, proceeding to throw himself onto the prince’s bed like he owned it, “you’re the second son of a powerful kingdom. _The_ Slerenth Kingdom. Almost every royalty with half a mind would give a limb or two for your hand.” Chenle tilts his head, a slight frown on his face, “They _have_ been, now that I think about it. Ever since you were a teeny cell in your momma’s womb.”

Jaemin sighs, trust Chenle to tell him things he knows fully well but doesn't appreciate hearing out loud. Maybe it came from being the only son of a family of extremely wealthy, extremely influential, and extremely long line of nobles. Maybe it was just unique to Chenle, unafraid and unapologetically honest.

Their youngest friend was quietly surprised, eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he unlocked Jaemin’s windows and pushed it outwards, immediately leaning back against it. 

A breeze entered the room, ruffling Jisung’s hair and causing Jaemin’s nightgown, the one he should have probably changed out of considering it was nearly noon and it was very uncharacteristic of Slerenth’s youngest prince to lock himself away when the day was as beautiful as ever, to sway.

“When?” Jisung asks, slowly removing his armour. The prince looks over at him, seeing him slightly sweating, and realizes that morning training for the knights must have just ended. Or maybe Chenle pulled some strings to get him out of it early. Jaemin wouldn’t put it past him.

“I’m traveling to _Vireya_ in less than a month.” Jaemin says, eyes finding its way to his bookshelf, voice as small as ever.

Chenle whips his head faster than the speed of light as Jisung seems to choke on air, “ _Vireya?_ ”

Jaemin slumps against his headboard. _“Vireya.”_

There was a few seconds of palpable silence in the room as Jisung seemed to try to wear off the shock and as Chenle’s mind seemed to work a mile a minute.

_“Gods.”_ Jisung breathes out. “How did that happen? I can’t imagine King Yoonoh arranging your marriage with— _Vireya_ of all kingdoms. I mean, I can see how that can be a smart political move but you’re—”

“Your brother is too protective. So Vireya must have been the one to propose that. But still— the fact that King Yoonoh would accept—” Chenle releases a sound of disbelief. 

Jaemin had expected that reaction. Barely slept as he thought it through the entire night.

The mere thought of the kingdom of Vireya inspired such a reaction. Much more _marrying_ into Vireya.

No matter how surprised Jisung and Chenle were about it, no one was more surprised than Vireya’s betrothed himself. After all, it was his brother who told him about his betrothed, long before he became the Slerenth King.

  
  
  


_“Father’s worried about Vireya.” Yoonoh had told Jaemin, walking alongside the beautiful dark horse his younger brother was riding. “After the fall of the previous king, there’s been a huge amount of distress and distrust among their royalty. Everyone’s making a desperate grab for power.”_

_“Father’s always worried.” At barely seventeen, Jaemin couldn’t be more disinterested in politics. He never did really like any form of dishonesty. “I think it comes with being a king.”_

_Yoonoh chuckles for a second, sunlight shining down on his wavy brown hair, before pausing in thought, “No, this one… this one makes me uneasy as well. We never had a good relationship with Vireya… there’s very little information we know about them. They’ve been having trouble for a while now, but their army is still the largest. Still the strongest. Problems in Vireya, internal as it may be, is not good for any of us. Vireans are…”_

_“They are?” Jaemin asks, when his older brother doesn’t continue for too long._

_“They’re different from us.” He begins, and Jaemin notices him picking his words properly._

_Of course they are. Jaemin heard countless stories about them. About how they gained so much wealth and power, through violence and savagery. Through too much spilled blood. Their culture and tradition couldn’t be more different from Slerenth’s._

_Yoonoh would make an excellent king. Jaemin doesn’t know if he likes that more than he doesn’t. “They’re less… gentle. There’s been talk going on that Vireya’s first son had something to do with the previous king’s assassination.”_

_The younger couldn’t help but let out a horrified gasp, couldn’t even think of such a horrid horrid thing. “That’s terrible.”_

_“There’s no evidence. The first son is just a little bit older than you, you know.” Yoonoh had explained, “But it doesn’t exactly help that he doesn’t have a good relationship with the queen. Or former queen.”_

_Yoonoh’s frown deepens, “It’s a bit complicated right now. The first son is still a few months from being of proper age to be king. But Vireya’s laws are different from ours. The queen can’t really be queen if she doesn’t have Virean blood, if she isn’t wed to the king, or if she never gave birth to royalty with Virean blood.”_

_A headache begins to form in Jaemin’s temple, “She isn’t the first son’s mother?”_

_“I’m ‘fraid not, little brother. The first son’s mother was the original queen, but she died of illness a few years after she gave birth to a son. The king soon married again after that, but they never had children of their own.”_

_“That must put a lot of pressure on the first son.”_

_“You’re too soft, little brother.” Yoonoh smiles up at him, fond and a little of something he doesn’t recognize. Yoonoh pats his knee twice, “But— you’re not completely wrong. In Vireya, you have to be stronger and you have to be smarter. So many people will be out to get you every step of the way.”_

_“If I had ended up there, I’d have been eaten up alive. That’s why… anyone who lay claim to their throne and keeps it… must be a force to be reckoned with. And I’m not too sure if that’s a good thing.”_

  
  
  


“He met Vireya’s king a few months ago— in Acacia. Remember when they had a meeting there with King Kun and King Taeyong? When he came back, it’s like the world turned upside down and now suddenly Yoonoh trusts them with his entire chest. With _me.”_

Jaemin huffs out a laugh, “It’s not like I have much of a choice, anyway. Like you said, it was bound to happen anyway.”

Jisung said, “Yes, but I didn’t think you’d marry into fucking _Vireya._ I thought King Yoonoh would make you marry— I don’t know, Prince Hyunjin of Cilia? Or Chenle even. _”_

Jaemin and Chenle release disgusted noises in unison.

“I’m not even going to honor that with a retort,” Jaemin says, but there was humor bleeding into his tone, “and as for Hyunjin, he’s wonderful. But I don’t really fancy marrying someone who’s already in love with someone else.”

“You’d rather marry the Virean king, then?” Chenle teases, “I heard he’s very handsome.”

The Slerenth prince ignores the heat crawling up his neck. 

Jisung, ever ready to follow Chenle’s instigating, quips, “I heard he’s Vireya’s best swordsman. Excellent at hand-to-hand combat too. Must have nice and strong muscles on him.”

“He might be dangerous,” Jaemin glares at his so-called friends, but his voice was weak, painfully avoiding thoughts about his betrothed, “you know the stories about him.”

“What might be dangerous is his large—”

And that is the cue for Jaemin to get one of his harder pillows and smother the noble with it. 

Jisung laughs from where he’s still leaning against the window, idly touching Jaemin’s flowers with one of his fingers. 

Minutes later, when the prince and the noble have exhausted themselves, breaths heavy and laying on their backs next to each other on top of Jaemin’s sheets, Jisung carefully takes a seat in between them.

“If it means anything,” Jisung begins, voice low and serious, “I trust King Yoonoh. He wouldn’t have accepted Vireya’s proposal if he knew they'd bring you harm. And I think— I think if you try… I think you could be happy there.”

Nobody speaks for a while, until Jaemin whispers, “It means the world.”

“I’m going to miss the both of you. _fiercely._ ” Jaemin says, voice already watery, “If Vireya won’t allow you to visit me, or me to visit you here, I’m going to march out of there on my own— damn it all to hell.”

“I doubt your twig little self would make it past the first guard,” Chenle says. 

They laugh. Jisung lays on his back between them as well, and they laugh and they laugh and they laugh.

Jisung says, “I’m going to miss you.”

Chenle says, “It’s never going to be the same again,” because Chenle always says the things they know full well but don’t appreciate hearing out loud.

_Then,_ Jaemin finally allows himself to cry, and the two allow themselves to cry with him.

**2**

_With Beauty and Grace_ were Slerenth’s words. Their kingdom was well-known and well-loved by many for their gentle nature. Slerenth is perhaps the only kingdom, of their power and wealth, that is not in conflict with neighbouring domains; as they are uninterested in fighting for more land and fighting for more power, choosing to focus on developing and improving what they already have.

But what is well-known and well-loved, is also always well-criticized. Others have seen this as Slerenth’s weakness or as cowardice, Jaemin couldn’t count how many times he has attended events where royalty had openly scoffed at their kingdom and looked down at their ways.

There was once a time when Jaemin would let their views drag his feet, would let them weigh on his shoulders, and would let them fold his body in on himself.

But Jaemin has grown with too much love. 

The queen, who was elegance in human form and who had the most beautiful smile known to creation, had pressed too many gentle kisses against his cheek, and stood so straight and faced off against men of royalty with unwavering confidence in the next breath.

The king, who’ve won his people irrevocable influence and a thousand treasures, had called his men brothers and sisters, and treated them as such.

And Yoonoh, handsome and strong, who was as intelligent as he was kind. Who Jaemin sometimes doubted would become a great king because he was too much of a great man, had held his hand the moment he was born and never once struggled with keeping him up. 

He remembers how his Yoonoh, with the biggest heart, had held him when the previous Queen and King had sailed away for a treaty and never came back; had taken his crown and accepted every responsibility and consequence that came with it, _with beauty and grace._

And so when Jaemin walks, he walks with confidence; when he talks, his voice is soft but sure; and when he enters foreign land, he wears Slerenth’s earth colors like armour, _with beauty and grace._

Which is why he is absolutely ashamed of the terribly loud shriek he let out when the carriage he was riding to Vireya was jostled, no trace of beauty and grace in the way it ripped out from his throat in shock. 

One of the larger wooden luggages containing his belongings opened at the abrupt stop, spilling out a few of Jaemin’s clothes including his favorite green shawl laced with gold.

Another jostle hits the carriage as Jaemin hears shouts from the outside. He couldn’t help but let out a panicked _“Sir, what is going on?_ ” directed at the coachman.

When no one replies, Jaemin immediately locks the carriage from the inside, mind going a thousand miles per minute. _what do I do what do I do what do I do._

A man close enough to the carriage Jaemin could _feel_ him, grunts, kicking at the door. 

Jaemin couldn’t help but jump at the impact of the man’s foot. _Gods._ Jaemin unsheathed a dagger from his hip, fingers trembling from absolute _fear._

He’d laughed when Jisung gave it as a gift, a day before his departure, bright and honest. But the young knight’s face was serious, despite the slight upturn of his lips, “If you ever feel like you need to use it, use it. Don’t think about the consequences. Your safety is the priority.”

Jaemin looked at him, truly _endeared_ and _awed_ by the dagger. It was _breathtaking._ The dagger’s cut was simple and short enough to be easily hidden. But the handle, Jaemin lets out a breath at the sight, was wrapped —spiraled— with a thin vein-like design of Slerenth colors. _of earth._

“What makes you think I would know how to use this?”

“You should’ve come to all those combat trainings, Nana.” Jisung snickered, before holding out the dagger to the prince by it’s sharp end, “The only thing you need to remember is, you hold _this_ end. And then stick ‘em with the other end.”

Jaemin had laughed at him again, his glee echoing in the kingdom’s halls.

Strangely, Jaemin feels laughter bubbling up his throat right now, as he hears the man kicking at the door multiple times, the door about a breath away from total destruction.

_There are about 50 people with him, Slerenth and Virean._ He reminds himself. _All whose duties include standing between Jaemin and a sword._

This though does nothing to soothe his nerves. His heart beating so fast and so loud, he barely makes out the shouts from the outside, “ _Protect the prince! Protect the prince!”_

Jaemin doesn’t know how much time has passed. But as of this second, he has prayed to every single god he knows. Has prayed all the prayers he didn’t even _know_ he has memorized.

When the door opens, Jaemin stops breathing. His knuckles are white from how tight both of his hands are clutching at the dagger, sharp end pointed towards the door. _Stick ‘em with the other end._

But before Jaemin makes do of the lessons he’s learned from Jisung, his eyes land on raven hair and intense eyes the color of honey. _Beautiful._

Jaemin stops breathing for a whole other reason.

“Your highness,” The man says, wary. His voice was low and calm, muffled by the golden metal covering his face from the nose down, so different from the storm brewing in Jaemin’s chest. 

When the prince’s heart remembers what it was supposed to be doing, Jaemin finally lets his eyes trail down from the honey-colored eyes and registers that the man was wearing a knight’s uniform. Midnight black and gold that glinted under the sun’s harsh light. _Virean colors._ Jaemin has never been more relieved at the sight. 

“Sir,” He exhales shakily, lowering the dagger, “what is happening?”

“Your highness,” The man begins, strong and sure, eyes searching Jaemin, searching for _what_ exactly, the prince doesn’t know, “we were attacked by a rebel group. It seems they have caught news of your travels and planned an ambush.”

Jaemin winces, his mind immediately going to _The Circle._

“It’s under control now, my prince. You need not worry yourself.”

A familiar heat travels up Jaemin’s neck and he prays to the gods once again. This time, for the inside of the carriage to be dark enough so that the knight wouldn’t see his king’s betrothed _blushing_. 

Jaemin lowers his head, but his eyes couldn’t help but sneak a short look at the Virean knight. 

There was _something_ about him. Something _odd_ that Jaemin couldn’t quite pinpoint. _Is this what Virean knights are like?_ He thinks. None of the Slerenth knights felt quite the same. 

_This_ knight held his head high, but there was no trace of the boyish arrogance that knights usually came with. _Silent and strong,_ Jaemin thinks. There was a certain confidence to him, in the way he stood and the way he spoke, that reminded Jaemin of Yoonoh.

“Is everyone okay?” The prince brings himself to ask.

The honey-colored eyes curl up a little at the prince’s question, Jaemin wonders if he was smiling. “Yes, your highness. There are about three damaged carriages, including yours, but no one was seriously harmed.”

“May I step out, then?” He finds himself asking. The inside of the carriage was making it hard for him to breath. Everything that has happened that day was making it hard for him to breathe. 

“Not yet, I’m afraid, my prince. They’re making sure everything is safe before you come out to transfer to another carriage.”

Jaemin frowns, raising his neck and turning his head to peek at the outside. He catches sight of a man bleeding on the forest floors and immediately stops himself.

When his eyes land back on the knight’s, it’s to see him with a light frown. “You’ve cut yourself, your highness.”

The Slerenth prince blanks, “Excuse me?”

The Virean knight slowly reaches out a large pale hand and turns the prince’s head by his jaw, revealing a thin long cut right under his ear. The young prince’s winces at the touch, mind retracing it’s steps to figure out how he got it but coming up with absolutely _nothing_.

“I’ll have a nurse see you once you transfer to another carriage.” 

“It’s alright,” Jaemin says, hand unconsciously reaching up to touch his neck, right where the knight’s hand was touching a second ago. “I don’t think it’s bleeding anymore.”

_If you had touched me in front of my people,_ Jaemin didn’t say, _they’d have cut off your hand._ The Slerenth weren’t violent, no, but they _were_ protective. _fiercely so._

The prince found he didn’t quite mind it. _You liked it_ , a mocking voice quipped in his head, sounding suspiciously like Chenle.

The prince lets his hand fall to his lap with a graceless thump. When Jaemin’s eyes lower to his trembling fingers, he hears the knight’s gentle voice once again, “We’re alright, my prince. Everything is under control and we will resume our travels soon.”

Jaemin closes his eyes, lets the man’s words ring inside his head. “Thank you, sir.”

He hears the slight smile in the Virean knight’s voice, “I’m at your service, my prince.”

  
  
  
  


It was when he transferred to a new carriage, smaller but perfectly fine, that Jaemin finally let himself _sag._

He was already a mess for overthinking the entire morning, nervous and shifty, and barely managing to not cry into his brother’s arms when it was time to bid farewell. 

_Of course_ they were going to be ambushed by rebels. There were no other possible culprits. If anyone in Slerenth would willingly attack a Slerenth Prince, it would be _The Circle._

The Circle was a rebel group, formed just after Jaemin’s own father was crowned. Much like a lot of people outside Slerenth’s borders, some of the Slerenth people viewed the royalty’s decision to stay away from territory and power-centered feuds _cowardice_. They rebelled for the desire for a _firmer hand._

They were getting more and more desperate as time passed by, but this was the first time that Jaemin was there to witness it. 

Yoonoh would not be happy. If Jaemin wasn’t more than halfway to Vireya by now, Yoonoh would surely stop the travel altogether. 

But the attack was under control, Vireya was only a few days more, and the Slerenth were still wary of the Virean King and how he would react to _disrespect_.

Before Jaemin could bury himself in his own thoughts, the carriage door was abruptly open, giving Jaemin his third heart attack for the day.

From outside, a sunkissed man dressed in Virean’s black and gold bows at ninety degrees, hand on his chest— a Virean custom. 

“Your highness,” he says standing at full height with a blinding smile on his face, before entering Jaemin’s carriage and sitting across from him. _Now this one_ , Jaemin thinks, _definitely_ _has that air of Virean knight arrogance_. But his uniform was different and his smile was genuine, so Jaemin finds himself smiling back anyway.

“I’m Haechan. At your service, my prince. I will be your companion for the rest of your travel and your attendant until your wedding day.”

Something inside Jaemin’s stomach coils at the word _wedding._ He ignores it. “My attendant?”

“Yes, your highness. It’s part of Vireya’s culture for the king’s betrothed to have a knight be your attendant until his very wedding day, chosen by the king himself. To protect you, the books say.” Haechan smirks, “but really I’m just here to taste the cake with you and tell you all the gossip you’ve missed.”

Jaemin smiles, wide and true, “I’ll make sure to reject as many cakes as possible then, so we can taste at least fifty different ones.”

Haechan laughs, nothing noble about it at all, “Jeno was right. We’ll get along just fine.”

The Slerenth prince takes note of the easy way he says the king’s name. 

“I can tell you everything you want to know,” Haechan leans back, stance easy and relaxed, “but it seems you’ve had a troublesome day. Rest a while, your highness. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

_Troublesome doesn’t even begin to cover it_ , the prince wants to say, but a yawn makes it past his lips instead. With eyelids growing heavy, his temple finds its way to the cushion.

  
  
  
  
  


“Good morning, my prince.” Two suns greet Jaemin the moment he opens his eyes, one peeking at him from the carriage’s blinds, and the other smiling down at him, too alive for someone who’s been travelling for a week. 

“Good morning,” he replies, voice low and thick with sleep. Haechan fails to hide his smirk, _or doesn’t even try._ There’s a smart comment hanging in the air, but Haechan was still trying to get a feel of the Slerenth prince, so it stays hanging. 

Jaemin moves the curtain with two fingers, taking a peek at the outside, and seeing nothing but huge tree trunks rising up and up and up, meeting the other trees’ branches and leaves in a kiss. 

“Where are we?” he whispers.

Haechan hums. “We’re passing by Acasia’s forest, your highness. Just in their outskirts.”

A frown makes its way to Jaemin’s forehead, “Acasia?” It was a small kingdom that specializes in _people_ — special skills and talents that only they can offer. Some say that Acasians were practitioners of black magic. The last Jaemin has heard of them, they were loyal to Galea, a powerful kingdom that was heavily against Vireya and their king. 

“Yes. You may not have heard of it, but Acasia has been Vireya’s friend ever since your betrothed has taken the throne. They know we’re passing by, so don’t be alarmed if you see a few of their guards outside. They’re just making sure we don’t meet trouble.”

Jaemin makes a thoughtful sound in reply, letting the silence take over.

He sits there for a while, walking the line between thinking deeply and not thinking of anything at all.

“You promised me that you’d tell me about Vireya.”

Haechan raises his eyebrows, mirth shining in his eyes. Jaemin wonders if he’s ever not amused. “Ah, I did.”

“Tell me, please, I would like to know what I’ll be facing.”

“Well, your highness,” Haechan begins, “it’s a lot different from Slerenth, that’s for sure. Not a lot of that _beauty_ and _grace_ there. The Virean people are fighters— men and women alike, warriors loyal to the crown and to their home _._ It hasn’t been long since our last war, so we hold the fighters to a high regard— especially the great ones. Our sigil is of a wolf, I’m sure you’ve seen it. _Defend,_ are our words. And if you are to be a Virean, you must know that what follows is, _with an iron heart.”_

Jaemin already knows this, of course, and he’s sure Haechan must know that he knows as well, but a Slerenth boy will always be a Slerenth boy, and so he smiles, soft and kind, “What is it like in Vireya? What does it look like?”

“A lot of factories. Very few land for agriculture, and even lesser bodies of water. We basically trade jewelry, gold, silver, iron, and steel for everything else.” Haechan smiles, more teeth than anything, “It’s a good thing the other kingdoms never empty their supplies of vanity or else we’ll be piss poor.”

Jaemin turns his head to hide his smile, “The rose quartz are from Vireya, aren’t they? Slerenth isn’t big on gold and silver, or other gems really, but those… they’re my favorite.”

“Really,” Haechan hums, looking like he was _scheming_ , “I’ll take note of that.”

“Did you...” Jaemin begins, without thinking, heat rising up his neck, “did you know the knight who saved me?”

“Saved you,” Haechan repeats slowly.

“Yes. During the attack.” Jaemin replies confusedly, when a playful smile stretches Haechan’s lips so wide it looked like it was painful.

Haechan laughs, looking at his face, “And what about that knight, my prince?”

Jaemin turns away from him, one hand unconsciously touching the warmth of his cheeks. “Nothing. I’m just… grateful. I am no fighter, I don’t know what would have happened if he wasn’t there.”

“Of course, your highness,” Haechan drawls, even more amused than he was a few minutes ago, “I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of that knight soon.”

The Slerenth prince quickly thinks of a different thing to talk about, pushed by embarrassment. 

“The king… King J-Jeno,” he says, without thinking _again._ Another wave of heat rises up Jaemin’s neck at his slip up as another mirthful laugh escapes the sun kissed man’s mouth, “you know him well, I take it? What— what is he like?”

“Simple.” Haechan says, without even thinking about it, an amused smile still playing at his lips, “Steadfast and reliable. We grew up together and he’s never been anything else,” there was something in Haechan’s tone that the prince couldn’t quite pinpoint, “Jeno was probably born with all the responsibility of a king already on his shoulders.”

_Simple, steadfast, and reliable._

“Is he? Does he—” The prince didn’t know how to finish his question. _Does he know me? Did he want me? And if I arrive at Vireya and meet him, will he want me still?_

He settles for asking “how did he become the king?”

The slow easy smile vanishes from Haechan’s face, replaced with something sharp and predatory, “The last king, Jeno’s father— he was good. But he made a lot of bad choices. And a lot of those choices didn’t give Jeno any.”

Before Jaemin could reply, Haechan continued, his tone dismissive, “I’m sure your betrothed will tell you more about it, my prince. For now, all you have to remember is that Vireya is far too different from Slerenth. You can trust Jeno, you can trust me, and you can trust a few of our other friends. Everyone else will try to kill you in your sleep, if it means they could be a step closer to taking Vireya’s throne.”

**3**

The sound of the gates wake Jaemin up from his uncomfortable slumber. It takes a while for him to truly understand what’s happening, but when he does, he quickly presses himself up against the window, peeking outside.

Haechan was right, Vireya is too different from Slerenth. Where Jaemin was used to the bright sun, shielded by the trees and flowers, and the soothing breeze, Vireya was so much more _bare._ In place of the bright colors of _life,_ there was steel and gold. The Virean castle was heavy and _extravagant_. 

Jaemin is instantly reminded of how wealthy and powerful Vireya truly is. 

While Jaemin’s home in Slerenth had vines and flowers running up their walls and noble children playing with animals in the open space, Vireya’s castle was tall and sleek, gold and silver a common theme.

In place of children, Vireya is heavily guarded, with some of the knights training in the open space. Some of them are looking over the carriages, pausing their combat training, surely informed of who was to arrive. 

All of them were in various states of undress and heat spreads from Jaemin’s neck to his ears at the sight. Slerenth people, those of royal and noble birth especially, can be quite conservative. _“No, Jaemin, it’s just you,”_ Chenle’s voice says in his head again.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice Haechan get up from his seat and take a step off the carriage, stretching his limbs from the long travel, until Haechan reaches a hand out to Jaemin, “My prince?”

The youngest Slerenth son shakes the thoughts away, tucking loose hair behind his ears, and running both hands down his clothes to fix it as much as possible, before taking a deep breath and placing his palm on top of the knight’s.

He steps foot on Vireya’s soil, with at least a hundred pairs of curious and shockingly unapologetic eyes on him. _With beauty and grace._

“The youngest son of Slerenth. Prince Jaemin.” Haechan calls out to the knights. A part of Jaemin wonders if such an informal introduction was normal in Vireya, but there was no malice in it, so he finds that he doesn’t really mind.

Slowly, as if a warning, Jaemin smiles _that_ smile of his, the one Jisung calls the _you’re gonna love me_ smile, and the knights all bend by the waist at once to pay him respect. 

“Prince Jaemin.” A deep voice says. 

Haechan lets go of his hand as the prince turns to the source of the voice, the smile still on his face. 

When the Slerenth prince’s eyes meet with a pair of honey-colored ones, the world stops. 

It was the same eyes just a few days earlier. The eyes that saved him. There was no way Jaemin could forget.

But these honey eyes were attached to a breathtakingly handsome face, all pale skin and sharp angles. This man was tall, accentuated by his black uniform that was not too different from those of the knights; but made even more regal by the white and gold royal robes hanging from his broad shoulders. 

The way he spoke and stood was enough for anyone with half a mind to know that this man was a King, but the golden crown encrusted with jewels resting on increasingly familiar raven hair leaves no space for doubt. 

Jaemin forces the world to continue spinning in its place, bowing the way the knights did barely a minute ago. “King Jeno, it is an honor to meet you.”

The king was closer to him when he finally rose, a genuine smile on his face. Jaemin tries to look for a shred of recognition in his eyes, but there was none. “There’s no need to be so formal, Prince Jaemin,” he says, offering his hand, palm up, “you are my betrothed, after all.”

He knew that, of course. But he was a Slerenth boy and his mother’s son more than anything. If Jaemin was ever remotely impolite, his mother would roll in her grave.

The Slerenth prince finds himself regaining his smile, smaller this time. He places his hand on top of the Virean’s, and is surprised at how warm and rough it is. _steadfast and reliable._ “Thank you for having me, my king. Vireya is beautiful.”

The king slightly and swiftly bends to kiss the back of Jaemin’s hands, “Not as beautiful as you.”

Heat spreads on the prince’s cheeks as Haechan snorts from behind him.

Still holding his hand, Jeno asks, “I heard about the rebel attack. I sincerely apologize for the distress. I hope you weren’t hurt?”

“O-oh, I’m alright. Just a little cut, but it’s mostly healed. Nothing to worry about.”

Jeno frowns slightly at the mention of a cut, but he covers Jaemin’s hand with another one of his, “I’ll have a nurse sent to your quarters still to have you checked, if you don’t mind.”

“That would be appreciated. Thank you, your highness.”

When the king lets go of his hand, Jaemin is embarrassed to find himself missing the warmth and the roughness of it. He can’t help but let his thoughts wander back to the knight that saved him in the carriage, how similarly warm and rough his palms have been against Jaemin’s neck.

“Jeno,” The king says, sure and confident, but no trace of arrogance in his stance, “you can just call me Jeno. Vireans aren’t very strict with titles, and you are to be my husband.”

Another wave of embarrassment travels up Jaemin’s spine at the easy way the king calls him his husband, but he ignores it with a widening of his winning smile.

“Thank you, then, _Jeno.”_

“I’m sure you’re tired after the long travel,” Jeno turns, offering Jaemin his arm, both of them unconsciously ignoring everyone and everything else around them, “I’ll have the staff take your possessions. I’ll show you to your room so you can rest.” 

When Jaemin takes the Virean king’s arm, his lively earth colors press against Jeno’s regal gold and sleek black, and the world continues turning, but somewhere— something, _shifts._

  
  
  
  


**4**

The first week Jaemin spent in the Virean Castle was a whirlwind. Haechan had shown him the library, the ball room, the music room, the kitchen, the training area, and even offered to sneak him into the king’s room with a wink. The prince ignores him.

He hasn’t seen much of the Virean king the past week, but King Jeno makes it a point to have breakfast with him every morning no matter how busy he seems. 

He was _kind,_ as far as Jaemin can see, so much _gentler_ than what he expected. Which, to be honest, wasn't much considering Jaemin had expected him to be a violent, savage, and uncaring king. 

Instead, Jeno would always ask him about what kind of food he prefers and always makes an effort to make sure that his betrothed was never anything less than comfortable.

Between the time Jaemin first heard of his marriage with the Virean King and now, something in his chest has settled.

Of course, Jaemin should have known better. It is always, _always,_ when he gets comfortable enough that the universe decides to make things difficult for him.

And so when he was walking around the hallways, looking at the paintings and unconsciously comparing them with the kind of paintings he was used to in Slerenth, that is when he finally sees him.

One second he was looking at a painting of a warrior, all dark shades and sharp angles, and the next, he was looking at a familiar face in a familiar black and gold uniform.

The prince couldn’t help but gasp, and the man in front of him abruptly stopped at the sound, just a few paces away. 

_“It’s you.”_ Jaemin breathes out, sounding more like a question than a statement.

The man doesn’t say anything, expression controlled. 

“I mean.” The prince awkwardly clears his throat, “You saved me. In the carriage, when we were on the way here. Thank you.”

The raven haired knight stays silent for a few moments, before taking a few steps to close the distance between him and Jaemin.

He bows slightly, “My prince,” and when he raises his head, there was a slight curl to the corners of his lips, and something about it was so— Jaemin couldn’t find the right word. _surprising. unsettling. out of place._ “I’m at your service.”

Maybe it was a trick of the light or maybe it was fear pulsing in Jaemin’s veins in the carriage, but this close, Jaemin could see that the knight’s eyes was actually the color of amber. In the hallways, he appeared sharper; like a warrior stepping out of a painting. 

Jaemin doesn’t know how long he’s been lost in his own thoughts, but the sound of the knight’s voice pulls him out of his daze. “May I help you, my prince?”

Mirth was dancing in his eyes, like he was in on a joke that Jaemin wasn’t a part of. 

Before he loses the courage, the Slerenth prince asks, “What’s your name?” 

_Who are you exactly? How do your eyes look so much like the king’s?_ he wants to add, but his courage wasn’t fast enough.

The knight’s smirk widens, confident steps already making its way past Jaemin. Despite his eyes, the action reminds Jaemin more of Haechan than the king. 

“You can call me whatever you’d like, my prince.” 

With a wink that causes something to spike in Jaemin’s stomach, the knight gives a final bow and turns, walking with all the arrogance of a Virean knight.

Jaemin watches him until he disappears down the hallway, leaving Jaemin with nothing but the thought of _if the king had a brother, why did no one else know about it?_

Suddenly, the memory of kind eyes and a rough palm against his neck intrude in his thoughts. Warmth spreads all over his body.

_Of course_ , Jaemin thinks, _when has anything ever been simple._

  
  
  
  


**5**

“Good morning, Jaemin.” 

“My king,” Jaemin bows ever so slightly. The king has been getting him to grow out of the habit, but he was his mother’s son through and through.

Jeno smiles at him anyway, as soft and gentle as it was the day they met. 

He turns with his eyes still on the younger, offering the crook of his arm, “Shall we? I apologize for having skipped breakfast with you today, but I have a surprise for you, and I was making sure it was prepared.”

Truthfully, Jaemin _was_ disappointed when Haechan had told him that the king wouldn’t be having his first meal of the day with the prince for the first time since he arrived. But Jaemin understood that the Virean king, who has no official advisor and no queen, must be more than preoccupied.

He did _not_ pout throughout breakfast, of course, no matter what Haechan says, he is a _prince._

He had pouted throughout breakfast. But at the mention of a _surprise_ that the king himself made sure was prepared for him, something flutters in Jaemin’s chest, and he carefully places his arm through Jeno’s.

The raven haired man tells him all about his recent plans, talks about the castle, and the paintings, with the soothing voice of his.

With as big a castle as this, it’s no wonder the king never runs out of stories to share with Jaemin about it.

There was no room for the Slerenth prince to think about what the surprise may be, he didn't even pay attention to where they were headed.

But when Jeno suddenly stops with a wide smile, honey eyes even more beautiful underneath the sun’s light, Jaemin sees. 

And _gods,_ does Jaemin fall in love. He doesn’t bother with the ungraceful gasp he lets out, taking in this part of the castle he was only seeing now.

A _garden._ A month has passed since he arrived in Vireya and he’s barely seen any flowers or trees and animals. 

Just concrete and metal, gold and silver. Nothing Jaemin has grown up with and lived with for all his life.

But here, he’s surrounded by them— bright colors— yellow, orange, red, purple, and green, _so much green,_ no matter where he turns his head and he couldn’t help but laugh as he twirled around, trying to see if he could look at all of it at once.

It didn’t hold a candle to Slerenth but the month of _yearning_ and finally feeling something so intensely close to _belonging_ forces tears to well up in the corners of his eyes.

“ _Oh,”_ Jaemin says, almost unconsciously, pressing both palms against his heart, an intimate Slerenth gesture of when you can’t put gratitude into words, “ _Jeno.”_

Honey eyes meet his’. The king chuckles and Jaemin positively beams at him. “How did you—?”

“Your first week here,” Jeno says, walking towards him and pressing a hand against his lower back, “you mentioned that you spend almost every day in your gardens.”

Jaemin doesn’t reply, eyes taking in everything it could reach, letting the Virean king guide him towards a sophisticated looking bench. 

“It took a few weeks for everything to be delivered and prepared. I know how different Vireya is from Slerenth… I just wanted to give you a little piece of your old home.”

The prince turns to him, eyes bright and a smile that could conquer the world, “It’s _beautiful_. Thank you.’

Jaemin isn't sure if Jeno was trying to woo him, but he was, _gods,_ was he being wooed. Jeno hums, content to just watch the younger fondly. 

He wonders if it’s too early to say that he’d turn the entire castle of Vireya to a garden, if only to see that smile. 

“It’s my _ante.”_

When Jaemin looks on curiously, the king continues, “Vireans, royalty especially, are to _offer_ something to their betrothed before they wed. _Ante_ could be a gift of material or a gift of service.”

“Am I supposed to give you something as well?”

Jeno laughs, “No, no. It’s usually the one who proposes who gives _ante._ So no, you don’t have to.”

The Slerenth prince merely hums in reply, already thinking of what he could give his king.

They spent a few moments in silence, just letting the breeze ruffle their hair and brush against their skin. 

As the tip of Jaemin’s finger grazes the top of a blue flower, he asks, “When will we… our wedding. When?”

He internally cringes at his stumble, but Jeno just sighs, “Two months from now could be a good time. There’s a bit of friction with the South right now, but I believe it would be settled before then.” The king turns to look at him, “But we can have it moved, if you have a preferred date. Whenever you’re ready.”

Warmth envelopes Jaemin’s entire body. _He’s been feeling that a lot lately._

“You’re,” The Slerenth prince begins, not quite sure how to finish his sentence, so he settles for, “you’re so different from what I had expected.”

“What did you expect?”

Jaemin smiles so bright the king thinks the sun might be threatened.

“I expected… _less.”_

Jeno frowns, “less?” 

“Yes,” and the younger throws his head back in a laugh, “but there is so much more inside me right now, because of you my king. I feel _more.”_

  
  
  
  


They spent the whole day talking about their own kingdoms, laughing about their childhoods, and walking along the halls.

Jaemin tells him about his mother, his father, and Yoonoh. He tells him about the animals, the trees, and the children. He tells him about the food and the custom and the culture of Slerenth.

That night, the king walks him to his chambers, Jaemin’s hand on his arm. When they turn to face each other, the younger shyly meets the king’s eyes.

“Thank you for today,” Jaemin says softly, hands behind his back.

“It’s my pleasure,” The Virean king replies, offering his hand, palm up.

His betrothed places his hand on top of his without a second thought, and with that, Jeno bends down to press a gentle lingering kiss on the back of his hand. “Good night, my prince.”

“Good night, my king.” Jaemin only gets to reply, once Jeno lets go of his hand and the world starts turning again.

“See you in the morning.” Jeno says, before the Slerenth prince fully closes his doors.

With a shaky breath, Jaemin leans back against his doors, both hands pressed to his heart.

He laughs. Underneath his hands, golden flowers bloom.

  
  
  
  


**6**

“ _My_ ,” Haechan begins, “and here I thought you enjoyed my company.”

Jaemin forces the pout off his mouth as he meets Haechan’s eyes. “I do.”

“Not as much as you enjoy the king’s company, apparently.” Haechan quickly replies, tone lilting due to the huge grin he was sporting.

Heat travels up the prince’s neck. Jeno was away again, doing whatever it was that kings do. The past few days, he’s been barely warming his seat for breakfast, talking only a few minutes with Jaemin, before fleeing. 

He’s sent a few gifts too, giving Jaemin treats and sweets; sending books to his room for Jaemin to read; giving him an entire wardrobe, clothings of green, black, and gold; and Jaemin’s favorite, a thin golden bracelet, the same color as the king’s crown, encrusted with rose quartz. He thinks Haechan might have something to do with that.

He loves the gifts, he truly _truly_ does. But there’s still that dull feeling settling in his stomach.

The Slerenth prince understands, truly he does. He just can’t help but _miss_ him anyway.

As if reading his mind, Haechan’s grin mellows down to his famous insufferable smirk. “The South is causing trouble, because when are those bastards ever minding their own business.”

Haechan’s smirk gets even more insufferable when Jaemin hides his small smile at his words, “The South is getting paranoid about your marriage.”

This causes the prince to sit up from where he was laying on the center of his bed, now truly looking at the sun kissed man leaning against his open window with a frown. “Our marriage?”

“In their defense, there is something fearsome about two of the most powerful kingdoms forming an alliance through marriage. We were already threats even when Slerenth lacked a strong army, _no offense,_ and Vireya lacked political influence. But now that you’re to be wed…”

Haechan begins to move around the room, touching and poking at the prince’s belongings, “Vireya would fight for Slerenth, no questions asked, and well… you’re a Slerenth boy. The moment you're binded with Jeno, he’s going to get a good tight deadly grip around all the royals’ necks.”

The prince’s frown deepens. “What does that mean? I’ve never been involved with politics, I leave all that to my brother. I doubt that I’m as influential as you all think I am.”

Haechan sighs, stretching both arms before sitting down on the foot of the prince’s bed. “You never needed to be. Your name carries weight. You’re a Slerenth prince by blood. Even when you’ve left home and even when you marry our king. You can live in Vireya for as long as you like and even learn to call it your home, but royals from other countries will take one look at you and know exactly who you are.”

“How so?”

“It’s in your words, isn’t it. _With beauty and grace._ I’m afraid you’re a Slerenth boy through and through, my prince.”

  
  
  
  


He has never found entertainment in humiliation, whether it was other’s or his own, which is why Jaemin wasn’t precisely sure why he’s doing this.

After his conversation with Haechan, Jaemin spent another day barely seeing the king. 

He’s not too sure he should be missing him this much, if _missing_ was even an appropriate word for it. 

_Longing. Yearning._ He tries not to blush at the words. The king was his betrothed after all, Jaemin was allowed to feel whatever he was feeling for him.

And now he’s standing a few meters away from the knights training on the grass, the king right in the middle of it all. 

This time, he truly couldn’t help the heat travelling up his neck at the sight of Jeno. 

The king’s upper half was bare, broad, muscled, and well-defined, and _oh._

Jaemin’s grip on the wooden rectangular makeshift pot in his hands tightens. 

And that leads to the prince’s current predicament. He had the bright idea of getting the old gardener’s help to build the makeshift pot.

In Slerenth, there were usually a hundred of those lying about, ready to be used. Because the Slerenth people frowned upon killing flowers by picking them.

So they carefully take the flowers from the roots and carefully arrange them in a makeshift pot. It was a common yet always endearing present to receive in Slerenth.

Jaemin has received about a hundred in his life and has given a few to his family and friends as well.

It should be easy for him. _It would be easier for him to give to Jeno if they’re alone._

But _no,_ Jaemin squares his shoulders and tries to ignore the way every single head turns towards him the moment he stepped foot on the grass.

It takes a few seconds before the king realizes that his betrothed was walking towards him. 

All of the knights halted in their training. No other noise was to be heard besides the erratic beating of the prince’s heart. Jaemin catches Haechan’s eyes in the crowd. He ignores the sun kissed man’s suggestive wink.

A few feet away from him, Jaemin meets Jeno’s eyes.

Jaemin’s gift was not only the flower arrangement. It was also _this_. 

A message. _This is my heart._

Jaemin stops right in front of the king, a small, uneasy smile on his face. 

“My king,” he begins, “I’ve made this for you.”

He carefully offers the arrangement to the king. It was nothing extravagant, just a few yellow flowers that reminded the prince of the king’s eyes, surrounded by differently colored baby’s breath.

It was simple, not even the best Jaemin has ever made for someone in his life. 

But the smile that forms on Jeno’s face. _Oh, that smile._ Jaemin ached in places he didn’t even know could ache.

Jeno gingerly takes it from Jaemin’s grip, exhaling a breathy, “Thank you, Jaemin. They’re beautiful.”

Someone snickers from behind Jeno. Mark, Haechan pointed out his name once.

Jaemin wants to melt. “It’s not much. I could make better ones for you. And I— the gardener also helped me with the wood, I just— I—“

“It’s beautiful, _Jamie_ ,” The king says softly, always so reassuring and always so grateful, “Thank you.”

_That_ something in the world shifts even further. But this time, it feels more like it’s slotting into place. 

Jeno steps forward, as close to the prince as possible without crushing the flowers between them, and pressing a soft fleeting kiss on the prince’s forehead.

A reply. _This is my heart, as well._

  
  
  


**7**

“Well wasn’t that just adorable?” 

Jaemin startles at the deep voice, whirling around to face the source of the voice, hand against his wildly thumping chest. 

When his eyes land on familiar midnight black and gold uniform, he begins to calm down. But then his eyes rise up to meet amber ones and his heartbeat picks up all over again. “ _By the gods,”_ he breathes out, “you startled me.”

“My apologies, Prince Jaemin.” But he didn’t look like he was sorry at all.

It’s still so awfully startling how much he looked like the Virean king, sharp and handsome. At first glance, if it wasn’t for the armour he was wearing that was clearly a knight’s, he could fool someone into thinking _he_ was the king himself. 

_But,_ Jaemin observes, when you look at the amber eyed man longer, the difference was too stark. 

“What are you doing here?” The prince asks in a polite tone.

The corners of the man’s lips curl upwards. This was the difference between him and Jaemin’s betrothed. 

Whereas Jeno was gentle and soft, moving confidently, and acting simply, the amber eyed man was sharper, stance relaxed and arrogant, looking like he was laughing at Jaemin— or at the world in general.

“Last I heard the garden was open to everyone,” The knight easily answers, before frowning mockingly, “but the king did kind of make this his shrine for you.”

Jaemin heats up at his words, and only worsens when the knight continues, “Saw you giving him your little gift yesterday. _Lucky man.”_

There was something unnerving about holding the man’s gaze, Jaemin couldn’t figure out what it was, and so he turned his eyes away, coughing awkwardly. “That was nothing compared to—” Jaemin gestures his hand around the garden, “all of this.”

The man merely hums, “Not if it’s from someone as beautiful as you, my prince.”

He accidentally meets the pair of amber eyes again and suddenly he was transported to _that_ day all those weeks ago. The fear and the relief; the warm touch of his savior. 

Jaemin tries his best to shake the thoughts out of his head.

The world doesn’t shift, no, but there’s— there’s _something_.

  
  
  


**8**

Weeks passed and what Jaemin hoped would be a once in a blue moon meeting with the knight turned into _another_ , then into a few more than that. 

“I’m sailing away someday. Farther than I’ve ever gone before.” The knight says, a large grin on his face.

Jaemin couldn’t help but smile at the way he said it. The man reminds him so much of Chenle when he gets like this, all bright and bounce, talking like he could take on the world. It warms Jaemin up and makes his heart ache at the same time. “Are knights even allowed to do that?”

“They can try and stop me, _Jaemjaem_.” The air was thrumming with the man’s energy, ”I’ve done it before, I told you this already. For months and months, I sailed. The ocean is beautiful— there’s nothing like it in this world, my prince, I promise you. Every day in the water was an adventure.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

Through the weeks, the knight has visited him in the gardens more than a few times. 

And when the amber eyed man finds himself there, he tells him all kinds of ridiculous stories. From Vireya’s myths and urban legends to spouting on and on about his adventures in the ocean. 

Every time they meet, Jaemin wonders how someone could be so _alive_. 

“I can take you, you know.” The man turns to him, face looking even sharper under the sun’s harsh light. “I could take you when I sail away. Farther than you’ve ever gone before.”

“Now _that,_ I’m sure a knight won’t ever be allowed to do.” Jaemin throws his head back and laughs. “The middle of the ocean is not somewhere the king’s betrothed is supposed to be.”

When the man doesn’t answer for a while, the prince turns to him and is surprised at the sudden serious expression on his face.

Amber eyes meet his in a look that Jaemin could _recognize_ but can’t put a name to. 

There were a thousand feelings coursing inside Jaemin, and to his shame, _guilt_ was at the forefront of them all. There was nothing inherently wrong with what he was doing. But _gods,_ Jeno had built him an entire garden, and here he was.

“And are you,” the knight begins in a low voice, “are you _just_ the king’s betrothed?”

  
  
  
  


**9**

The engagement ball happens and Jaemin is just a little bit drunk but very _very elated._

How could he not be, when he’s surrounded by everyone he loves. Chenle and Jisung have come, dancing and drinking with him almost the entire night. Jisung had spun him a hundred times as Chenle _wiggled_ and _bounced_ against them. 

Unlike Slerenth, Vireya is more free and open; less conservative. It was the first time Jaemin was surrounded by nobles and royals, and he was allowed to be as loud as he wants, _beauty and grace be damned._

And Yoonoh was here, _Yoonoh was here._ Jaemin had knocked the breath out of him when he arrived, practically leaping into his older brother’s arms.

They talked and talked and talked, About Slerenth and about Vireya. About each other. Jaemin had missed him like the sun misses the moon, and it didn’t matter that Yoonoh was right beside him almost the entire time he was here. It didn’t matter how long Jaemin would live in Vireya. Jaemin would miss Yoonoh like the sun misses the moon for the rest of his life.

Jaemin had danced with him. Virean music was played all night, but when Jaemin and Yoonoh danced, they danced the Slerenth way. They were Slerenth boys after all, _through and through._

  
  
  
  


The Slerenth prince was just catching his breath in the hallways after spinning in circles with Jisung and Chenle in the middle of the room, when an arm grabbed him tightly around the waist, and a hand muffled his startled yell.

Fear strikes through him when he felt that he was being pulled into one of the balconies.

When the arms release him and he has struggled enough to get a good look at the culprit, he suddenly finds himself in front of a black and gold armour and unnerving amber eyes. “ _Gods._ What did I tell you about startling me like that?”

Jeno and Yoonoh excused themselves earlier, saying they were going to talk about something important, but they’ll come right back.

It’s been half an hour since then. They might look for him when they do come back, and Chenle and Jisung are probably _already_ looking for him.

“Forgive me, my prince.” The knight bows, “You looked awfully beautiful tonight, I couldn’t help but try and steal you away.”

Jaemin’s gut twist.

The knight offers his hand, palm up, “May I have this dance?”

Jaemin frowns, “in here? You could have just asked me back there.”

“No,” the knight says, a small unidentifiable smile on his face, “no I can’t.”

The prince’s frown deepens, but he slides his hand into the other’s anyway, “Why not? I’ve danced with Haechan and Mark. I saw some of the knights dancing with others as well.”

“I never said anything about not being able to do it because I was a knight.”

“Then what do you m—” Jaemin gasps, interrupted, as the man suddenly pulls him to his chest, guiding his hands to rest on his shoulders, as the man wraps his arms around his waist. 

With a laugh, the man lifts him up and twirls him around, once, twice.

Jaemin was out of breath when the knight put him down, and it took him five full seconds to say, “You are out of your mind.”

The knight pulls away from him a little then, before guiding his limbs in a fast version of a classic dance. 

They dance and dance and dance. The man swings their arms around wildly, spinning in circles, pulling the prince with him. The prince couldn’t help but grin and laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

With heavy breaths the only thing that can be heard under the moonlight, the knight snakes a hand at the back of his neck and pulls him closer, pressing their foreheads together, a wild look in his eyes.

“Tell me, my prince,” The knight pauses, “Tell me to sail you away; farther than you’ve ever gone before. Tell me, and I will.”

Jaemin closes his eyes, but he pulls away. 

The world shifts. “Please excuse me.”

  
  
  


The world doesn’t stop shifting. Not until Jaemin sees Jeno’s face again. 

Something settles in his stomach at the sight of the warm honey eyes. So handsome, so good. Jaemin sometimes wonder if he was just a terribly wonderful dream.

And before he could do— say something. 

The king stops right in front of him, a small smile on his face. He bows slightly at his betrothed, one of his palms pressed against his chest and the other offered.

“My king.” The prince bends by the waist.

“It’s a little funny how this ball is for our engagement, and I have yet to dance with you.” The king’s lips curl up into a soft smile that makes Jaemin ache all over. “May I have this dance with my betrothed?”

With his cheeks flushed and his fingers shaking just the slightest bit, Prince Jaemin places his hand on top of the king’s. “It is my honor.”

The first few notes of the new song plays, _softer and slower_ than the ones played earlier. The entire room was watching their every move, but the prince and his king only had their eyes on each other.

The king pulls him towards the middle of it all. Jeno, clad in his midnight black uniform and white and gold robes, crown sitting atop his head, was all broad shoulders and beautiful honey colored eyes and reassuring smiles.

The moment his eyes set on Jeno, the storm inside him resides. 

When they reach the center, the king takes both of his hands with his warm once, places both of them on his strong shoulders. 

Looking him in the eye, the king slowly wraps his arms around the prince’s waist. “How has your night been?”

“Good. _Great._ Much better now.” Jaemin smiles, and he realizes how true it was. 

A hand soothingly rubs at his back, “I’m glad, my prince.”

Heat rises up to the prince’s cheeks at the king's touch, and he hears a low laugh from him when he casts his eyes downwards.

They stay like that for a while, slowly swaying to the music. 

The king hums, taking one of the prince’s hands from his shoulder. He intertwines it with his and presses it against his chest, still dancing to the song playing in the background. An entire garden of flowers bloom in his chest.

For a startling second, Jaemin feels his throat constrict at the action, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

_Gods,_ he thinks. _Jeno._

Without thinking, the prince pulls his hand from Jeno’s hold, surprising him. And much to everyone’s surprise, including the king himself, Jaemin wraps his arms around his neck, and shyly rests the side of his head on the king's shoulder. “ _You’re so—_ ” The prince’s voice shakes, letting the vulnerability spill from his mouth, “sometimes I wonder if you’re even real.”

It took a moment for the king to take in the younger boy’s action, but when he does, he asks, _“What do you mean?”_

Jeno wraps his arms around the prince’s waist, pulling him closer, with a small but confused smile on his face, rubbing gentle circles on the prince’s back.

He doesn’t reply. He’d never be able to find the right words to say it properly. Instead, he gathers enough courage, thanks the many glasses of wine Chenle and Jisung passed onto his hands tonight. 

He pulls back a little to meet the honey-colored eyes, and asks, “Will you kiss me, my king?”

Jeno loses his smile, looking as if the floor just opened up on him. He searched for something in Jaemin’s face. 

And he must have found whatever it was, because not a second later, Jeno leans down to press his lips against the prince’s.

Their first kiss was short, just a slight brush of lips. As sweet as Jaemin has imagined it would be. 

The second kiss was longer, but still _so_ soft and _so_ gentle. The prince’s hands find their way to Jeno’s cheeks, as the king’s arms encircle tighter around his waist.

They stay like that, for a while. Like there was nobody else in the room. Just the king and his betrothed, foreheads pressed together, sneaking kisses from each other every other second. 

Jaemin feels the king’s smile more than he sees it. He lets out a breathy laugh, feeling safer than he ever has in Vireya.

He was so happy he feared flowers would start growing out of his chest.

  
  


**10**

The day after their engagement ball, Jaemin finds himself drained of all the previous’ nights energy, feet hurting and head aching just the tiniest bit; the only source of comfort was the familiar roughness of the King’s palm pressed against his.

After months of conversations over shared breakfasts, walks in the garden, bashful presents, and not-so-secret glances, Jaemin can finally say that being with Jeno was _easy._

As they walk through the gardens, the fingertips of the prince’s other hand gently brush the petals of the flowers, as if greeting them a _good morning._ Jeno turns to him for a second just to offer him a small smile. If there was only a way to memorize every detail of a smile, Jeno’s would be the first one he would. 

_Steadfast and reliable,_ Haechan had said, and the Virean King did not disappoint one bit. 

The king had a certain reassuring effect, Jaemin didn’t know if others felt it as well, or if it was unique to only him. The entire palace could be burning down and Jaemin wouldn’t worry for a second as long as Jeno was there. 

The raven haired man rubs slow circles in the back of the prince’s hand, and Jaemin lets his shoulders slump slightly at the touch. “I’m sorry your friends and your brother had to leave so soon.”

“It’s alright,” Jaemin assures him, even though he had shed a few tears while he was bidding his farewell, “they’re important people. Having them here with me, even just for a while— it’s more than enough. I’m… happy.”

“You seem especially… attached to them. With King Yoonoh and your friends.” 

Jaemin hums, eyes on a flower with petals the color of a blush, “I grew up with Jisung and Chenle. We played everyday as children and learned together as we became adults. I don’t think I’d be _me_ if it weren’t for them.”

Turn his gaze away from the flower, Jaemin meets the king’s eyes, “and Yoonoh— well, Yoonoh is my everything. The three of them… up until I came here— they were all there ever was."

_“Family,”_ Jeno says, “it must be lovely, growing up happy.”

Jaemin frowns, something heavy settling in his stomach at Jeno’s implication, “Weren’t you—? Your family—”

Now that it was brought up, Jaemin realizes how little they’ve spoken about Jeno’s family. “But your brother—” Jaemin begins to ask, but immediately stops himself, eyes widening. Mentally slapping himself upside the head, _he had just admitted to knowing about the king’s brother._

There was a slight change to Jeno’s expression— shock, and something Jaemin couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Jaemin watches as the seconds tick by, before the king’s jaw loosens, as he blinks back to focus. 

“You knew.” There was nothing in Jeno’s tone, nothing that would betray how he was feeling.

“So he _is_ your brother. I apologize, my king,” Jaemin shakes his head, not sure how to continue, “I hadn’t brought it up sooner because— well—- nobody else knew. I assumed that it was hidden… for a reason.”

“How do you know him?” The king’s grip on his hand loosens. The prince realizes that there was something _defensive_ about his stance. 

“He saved me. In the attack when I was travelling here, he was the one who saved me. We’ve…” shame clogs at Jaemin’s throat at the memory of walking through the gardens with the knight, of dancing with him on the balcony, foreheads pressed together, as he continues, “talked a few times as well, here in the castle. I assumed you would tell me about it some time— I— I didn’t mean to cause any problems— I don’t even know his name.”

Minutes pass by in silence. Jeno was looking straight at him, but it was obvious that his mind was far away.

“ _J_ _eno.”_ He says, barely above a whisper.

“I—” Jeno closes his eyes for a few seconds, “I should apologize as well, for not bringing it up. H— He is my twin brother. He’s— It’s—”

Jeno breathes out a laugh and a part of Jaemin’s heart crumbles at the sheer brokenness of the sound, “It’s a bit of a long story, my prince. How about we take a seat for this?”

Dazed, Jeno gently drags him towards the bench. They spent a few more minutes in silence, before Jeno had finally gathered the courage to begin his story.

And _my,_ was it a story.

Jeno tells him everything. How he was born only a few minutes earlier than his twin. How their mother was known for being beautiful and lively; how life was taken from her just a few years after her sons were born. Jeno tells him of their troubled father, who was so far from being a good king and a good man; who loved both of them to the ends of the world, as much as someone like him could love, but didn’t love anything or anyone else. 

"He was a terrible man, Jamie. An even more terrible king. But I loved him still." Jeno’s voice breaks at the end of his sentence and Jaemin wants nothing more than to protect him from that pain; to shield him from whatever it is that hurts. _"I loved him still."_

Jeno tells him of a woman who came into their father’s life a few years after their mother has pass. How beautiful she was, and how vicious she’d been. Jaemin hears the way everything drains from Jeno’s voice at the mention of her. 

Jaemin holds both of the king’s hands in his as Jeno tells him of how that woman was wed to their father. Of how she’d taught him cruelty and sadness. How the woman tried to kill his twin brother; tried taking everything he loved. How she succeeded halfway.

“My brother has always been father’s favorite, you see,” Jeno smiles a small bitter smile and Jaemin has never wanted to make something disappear so terribly in his life more than he wanted to in that moment, “He’d tell us how my brother’s eyes were the exact same shade as her’s. How he was as lively and adventurous as her. She absolutely _hated_ him for it.”

“I was always the good son, the good brother, and the good heir. But my brother was still more loved than I was and nothing I did was enough to save my father.”

Jaemin remembers the rumours about Jeno being behind the assassination of his own father. He's ashamed there ever was a time that he considered it possible.

Tears spilled from the prince’s eyes, yet he couldn’t say anything. Jeno was so _so good,_ and the thought of Jeno thinking that he was in any way not enough made Jaemin’s entire body _sore._

“My father wasn’t good. Whatever stories you've heard about him, they're most like true. He was a violent and uncaring king. But he— he was— he was as good as he could have been to us. Jamie, someone could be terrible and still be loved, _right?"_

Jaemin's heart clenched, "I know, _I know."_

"When he passed, I had nothing else to do but… _adapt.”_

“The woman. She did even more horrible things when my father passed. I felt like I was being backed into a corner— so my brother and I had an agreement that he would be hidden as a knight, for his safety. I had— years. It took years for me to banish that woman from Vireya. The politics here is a nightmare. _Years._ While my brother and my friends were busy training to be knight, I was—”

_Defend,_ were Vireya's words. _with an iron heart._ Jaemin was slowly understanding what it truly meant.

_Oh, Jeno,_ Jaemin thinks. He sees the way the king’s chest heavily rises and heavily falls, but the king makes no sound. _How long had he been silent?_

_“My king,”_ Jaemin wipes at his own tears, before cupping the king’s cheeks with both hands, turning his head so that they’d face each other, _“Jeno.”_

The king closes his eyes for the briefest second, covering Jaemin’s hands on his face with his own rougher ones. 

“I am _so_ sorry. I am so incredibly _sorry.”_ The back of Jaemin’s throat feels like he’s been screaming for hours.

“I promise you that you will never have to go through that again. Now you have your brother and he will be safe. You have Mark and Haechan and I know for absolute certainty that they will never betray you. You told me about making Renjun your advisor, right? I think he’s good. You’ll have him. You have Vireya, it’s army and its people right behind you. You have _me. We_ will grow happy together, and then you’ll find out for yourself how lovely it is.”

“It’s been so long,” Jeno whispers, so vulnerable in his golden robes that Jaemin couldn't help but let go of his face to fully embrace him. “I don’t know if I could even learn how to be properly happy.”

Jeno cries in his arms and he cries with him. “We will try.”

He promises his king, “If a flower can break through rocks and still bloom beautifully, _so can you._ ”

  
  
  


Jaemin finds himself sitting alone on the bench after the king has excused himself. He needs time to himself, the prince knows, so with a kiss to the back of his hand, he lets him go. 

Of course, it wasn’t enough that he had dried himself of tears because of Jeno— _for_ Jeno. 

Life really wanted to test him today, apparently, as his twin brother enters the gardens with a look of single minded focus. 

His strides were purposeful, amber eyes gleaming intensely. Standing under the colors of the sunset and with Jaemin’s emotions all over the place, he looked like every bit of the knight that he was.

From the look in his eyes, Jaemin immediately _knew_ what was about to happen. He wasn’t daft, he _knew_ what this was, he knew what _they_ were. He knew from the knight’s first visit to the garden.

When the knight goes down on one knee in front of him, a hurricane starts in Jaemin’s stomach.

“I’m in love with you.” There was no trace of doubt or hesitation in the knight's voice. 

The first thing Jaemin could think of saying was, “I’m engaged to your brother.”

“I know. _I know,”_ and finally, the knight breaks, letting out a shaky breath, “but I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t tell you. If I had— if there was any chance and I didn’t tell you—”

Gently, the knight brushes the prince’s cheekbone, “Am I being delusional? Do you not _feel_ it?”

The Slerenth prince’s eyes unconsciously close at the touch. “I don’t even know your name.”

The knight laughs and Jaemin hates how much it sounds like the king’s earlier broken one. “Ask me, my prince. Ask me and I will give you anything.”

“Tell me you don’t feel it, Jaemin, and I’ll leave you alone.”

When the prince says nothing in reply, he asks, sounding more like a boy than a knight— than a _Virean prince,_ “What’d ya say, pretty thing? If I— If I asked you sail away with me— farther than you’ve ever gone before; I’ll save you like I did that one time in the carriage. We’ll go so far that no one will be able to find us… "

"If I asked you to damn it all to hell and go on an adventure with me... would you?”

  
  
  


**11**

Jaemin was never much of a thinker. He was the type that was governed by whatever it was he was feeling.

When his heart spoke, Jaemin would always listen. 

After his talk with the king and his brother, Jaemin had spent days wallowing in his own room, giving the two, and himself, the space they all needed.

Haechan had barged in his room last night, all playfulness gone, replaced with a worried and mildly annoyed look. The sun kissed man informed him of his and the king’s " _foolery."_ Apparently, neither of them have been showing up for breakfast in the past few days.

The prince has thought of a lot of things in the safety of his chambers. But the one that solidified his resolve was the memory of Chenle when they were younger, as they both lay on the grass, Jisung just a feet away, practicing with his sword.

Chenle had told him, _“Sometimes, Nana, you have to just— throw your heart as hard as you can and run after it like your ass is on fire.”_

So that was what Jaemin was _finally_ doing, walking the short walk to the king’s chambers with purposeful strides.

Jaemin already threw his heart, now was the time to run after it.

The guards in front of Jeno’s room were just about to stop him, but he wasn’t having any of it, pushing past the king’s doors, using the guard’s wariness of him as the king’s betrothed to his advantage. 

Any Virean knight can beat him to a pulp, Jaemin knows this, but he has to say this now before his courage runs out.

And so he bursts into the room to the king who’s upper body was bare but was already reaching for his sword at the sudden entrance.

At the sight of Jaemin, Jeno’s defensive stance melts into a surprised one, “Jaemin?” He asks, waving away the guards that followed Jaemin into the room, ready to defend their king.

Heat travels up Jaemin’s neck as he forces his eyes to stay above Jeno’s neck. “I have a confession to make.”

He wasn’t confident, but he hopes he sounds like it anyway.

“A confession?” Jeno asks slowly.

Shame eats at Jaemin but he swallows the feeling down. “I— When your brother saved me in the carriage that day, I couldn’t stop— I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then we met again, and then we started talking and I— I liked it, Jeno.”

Tears started pooling in his eyes, but he harshly wipes it away, “I liked how _alive_ he was. How everything was an adventure to him— _with_ him. He’s so— he’s _beautiful,_ Jeno. If he was— if what your father said was true about him being so much like your mother, I’d understand how even a violent and uncaring king could love her so much.”

Jeno says nothing. Slowly and steadily, he puts his sword down on the bed. 

“I have never been a liar, Jeno.” _Because he was his mother’s son,_ “If I told you I feel nothing for him, I’d be lying.”

“He offered me an adventure. He’d sail me away and _show me_ the world. I have never known anything but Slerenth and Vireya. I will not lie and say that I didn’t think of what it would be like if I say yes. Your brother— he’s… my mother always told me that sometimes love came like a hurricane— or like an earth-shattering quake.”

“Your brother is a hurricane,” Jaemin laughs, but there was no trace of humor in it. “It’s nice when I’m with him, but—”

“I'm afraid I've grown to love you, my king. I have _fallen in love with you.”_ Jaemin laughs louder, “Without beauty and without grace, some Slerenth boy I am.”

“I understand if you would choose to call off our marriage. I’d understand if you send me back to Slerenth and never allow me to enter Vireya again. But I—”

The prince lets out the heaviest breath he has ever let out, “I think I've fallen quite helplessly in love with you. And I know there shouldn't have been a choice in the first place, but I choose you. And I would keep on choosing you.”

Tears rapidly fall from the prince’s cheeks as he’s grown tired of trying to wipe it away, “I promised you that we will try to grow happy together and I intend to keep that promise. If you’ll have me.”

_Please,_ Jaemin doesn’t beg. But it was so clear in the air, Jeno could practically touch it.

When Jeno speaks, he says, “Damn the arrangement.”

And _gods,_ did Jaemin’s heart break, the impact of Jeno’s words causing him to collapse on his knees.

Jaemin releases a noise from the back of his throat that sounded a lot like a small wounded animal. Tears were blurring his vision too much that he didn’t even notice the king starting to kneel in front of him until he spoke. 

_“Jaemin.”_ Jeno speaks, louder this time, like he’d been calling him a few times now. “Listen to me.”

The king cups Jaemin’s cheeks when he doesn’t reply, shushing him gently, “I said _damn the arrangement._ I am not going to marry you for an alliance between Slerenth and Vireya. I will not marry you as the Virean king, and you as the Slerenth prince.”

The king leans forward to kiss him on the mouth once. Then on his cheek. Then on each eyelid. When he pulls away, he speaks softly, “I'm saying that I've fallen quite helplessly in love with you as well. Which is why—"

"I’m asking you right now, if you would marry me for _me._ ”

When the world shifts, and Jaemin still couldn’t find his voice, Jeno asks him with a small shaky smile on his face, “Would you, Jaemin, marry me as Jeno?”

When Jaemin replies, it’s with a smile so bright, all the lights and all the jewels in the king’s bedroom dimmed, “ _Yes."_

They meet in a soft and sweet kiss. All around them, flowers of every color slowly bloom.

  
  
  
  


“I have a confession to make as well.” Jeno begins, once they’ve found themselves settled on the king’s bed, Jaemin half on top of him.

The prince hums in acknowledgement, too sleepy to be entirely present. 

“I was the one who saved you in the carriage that day.”

Jaemin abruptly sits up, roughly untangling himself from the king. He was decidedly not sleepy anymore, looking down at Jeno with wide eyes. “You _what?”_

To his pleasure, Jeno _did_ look guilty. 

“Part of our arrangement is that I sometimes use his clothes so I can oversee my people and my army without bias.”

When Jaemin only frowns, he continues, “I convinced my brother to trade places with me during your travels. I wanted to see what Slerenth was like if nobody knew I was there. I wanted to see what _you_ were like from a short distance.”

It takes a while for things to settle in Jaemin’s heart and mind. _It had always been Jeno. It was Jeno from the start._

He starts getting angry. That's why the knight looked surprised in the hallway, why Haechan was _laughing_ at him. All of the shame and the guilt and the confusion. All these trouble. Jaemin would have never stopped the knight in the hallways that day if he knew Jeno was the one who saved him.

He stops the course of his thought. _It had always been Jeno, right from the start._ But somewhere in the middle, Jaemin admits to himself, it had been his brother too.

“Are you angry?” Jeno sits up as well, “I’d understand if you were. It seems like we both can’t help but keep secrets from each other.”

Jaemin winces slightly, “I— I want to be. But I’m just… No more secrets, okay?”

The king snakes a hand to the back of his neck, giving him a kiss so deep, it made his toes curl. He pulls away only to press his forehead against the prince’s. “From now on. No more secrets.”

  
  
  


**12**

When the king and his brother finally have a talk, it’s when his twin scales up the castle to enter Jeno’s room. 

Despite himself, Jeno laughs when his twin barely stops himself from landing on his balcony face-first. 

They spend a few moments in silence after that. Legs moving without thinking; _muscle memory._

They sit on the railing of Jeno’s balcony, just several feet away from death. Jeno, of course, does one of the most stupid and dangerous things he’s ever done in his life, the way he does most of the stupid and dangerous things he’s ever done in his life, _by his brother’s side._

It’s his twin who breaks the silence first. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

There was no need to say _who_ it was they were referring to. 

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Jeno replies without hesitation.

“I was only doing it to test him, you know. To see if he was the type to suddenly leave you when an opportunity presented itself.” His twin laughs, loud and playful. “Turns out he wasn’t. Now you know.”

It was partially true. Part of it was testing the prince; a small in built part of him that has been there since the heavens decided to birth him with a twin, wanted something Jeno wanted for himself, and the other— even smaller and more defeated part of him, truly did learn to love Jaemin, even just a little bit.

Jeno, of course, saw through all his bravado. They were brothers, after all. _“What do you want me to do? Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”_

The knight doesn’t doubt him for a second. Because Jeno was always the good brother. _Defend. with an iron heart._ There was no one in Vireya who could have made a better king.

A silent conversation passes through them, before he gathers enough will to say, “Send me somewhere else after your wedding… overseas… anywhere. _away.”_

“Will you come back?” There was something in Jeno’s question that made him ache in the deepest parts of his soul. Suddenly he wasn't a knight, and Jeno wasn't a king.

Suddenly, they were boys again, Jeno hugging him tightly to his chest after saving him from one of _that woman's_ failed attempts. _Defend. with an iron heart._

No matter what he answers, Jeno would take it, like he takes anything. They had been surrounded by misery almost all their lives and Jeno finally had a chance at being properly happy. _Who was he, to take that away from his brother? Who was he to take that away from someone who had spent all his life trying to save him?_

And so he presses his palm against the back of Jeno’s neck and smiles, a rare _true_ smile. “To you, brother? Always.”

  
  
  


**13**

On his seventh name day, his mother had told him, her gentle hands running through his hair, and even gentler eyes fondly looking down at him, “ _Your heart would always know love, my angel. Even if they disappear into a large crowd or swim away across the oceans. Even if they hide behind the thickest and strongest of walls. Even if they disappear for years and years. Once you see them again,”_

The queen, renowned for her utmost kindness and her time’s most beautiful smile, presses her palm against her little boy’s chest, _“this would recognize them in a heartbeat.”_

On his twentieth name day, Jaemin finally understands.

Love has different faces and it comes in different forms. Love had come for their parents like a hurricane; like an earth-shattering quake.

For Jaemin, Love came slowly and quietly; _like a whisper._

Love came in the form of garden walks and smiles over shared breakfast; it came in long gazes, slow smiles, and idle talks. 

For Jaemin, Love wasn’t sailing away to a big adventure, a big surprise to wake up to each day. 

Love was steadfast and reliable. It was the relief and the reassurance; the respectful silence and the fillers. It was Jaemin leaning against Jeno’s shoulder after a long day. It was never having to be afraid as long as Jeno was by his side. 

Love was _Jeno_.

_Jaemin finally understands._

Love was knowing that you don’t need stars to align or planets to explode to know that you will love someone for the rest of your life.

  
  
  


**14**

When it was time for the king’s brother to depart, a week after the royal wedding, the husbands bid him farewell, hand in hand.

Something had shifted in the air weeks after that day in the garden. The air around the amber eyed man was less energetic, but more _hopeful._

He had hugged his brother, _hard,_ and Jeno returned it wholeheartedly. He presses a quick kiss to the back of Jaemin’s hand as goodbye. 

“Don’t do anything foolish.” Jeno tells him, his tone playful.

His brother mockingly clutches at his chest, a wolfish grin on his face, “I’m never foolish, brother.” 

They watch him walk away, not looking back.

When he was a few feet away, Jaemin suddenly remembered something and abruptly called out at him, “Hey! I never did find out your name!”

The knight turns his head and meets his brother's eyes, a secret smile shared between them, before looking straight at Jaemin. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

The knight chuckles, halfway through turning back to walk away, when he calls back, “It was nice meeting you, Slerenth boy. My name is _Hiraya.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Hiraya, taken from an ancient Filipino word meaning the “fruit of one's hopes, dreams, and aspirations”, originates from the popular phrase “Hiraya Manawari,” which generally means _“may the wishes of your heart be granted.”_
> 
> thank you for reading!!! <3
> 
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> 
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